Closing Time
by clouisewise
Summary: It's amazing the kind of trouble a fake I.D. can get you into...


**Author's Note**: I would suggest listening to Closing Time by Semisonic when you read this; this fic is loosely based off of the song. :) Takes place before Kennedy comes to Sunnydale and is still in London. In the ongoing fic I am writing (The Chosen), Kennedy lived in London with her watcher Hensworth and his niece Lauren. This is my take on one of her (what I would assume is numerous) one night stands...

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything! I wish I did, but Mr. Joss Whedon has the divine privilege.

* * *

Nervously, I clutch the fake I.D. my accomplice Lauren gave me as we walk up to the front doors of Fave; some seedy underground nightclub downtown that people have been raving about for weeks, and we figured we might as well get in on all the action. Glancing down at the I.D., I attempt to get into character – my name is Annie, and I am a 22 year old design student at the local university. As opposed to the 17 year old boarding school student/slayer in training that I _really_ am. Great. Shaking my head and putting on my best mature face, we stroll right up to the door with our heads held high.

To my surprise, the bouncer outside checks us out and lets us in without a second glace (I definitely thought that would be harder). Lauren (or "Hailey") heads straight to the bar and gets us each a beer. Grinning, I take the drink from her and take a cautious sip as I scan the club. Like most, there's about 100 more bodies crammed on the dance floor than the fire code allows, music is pulsing and everyone is sweating. Just my kind of place. We head out onto the dance floor as a heavy techno song starts and get lost in the beat.

As the song comes to an end, we both weave our way through the sea of bodies and make ourselves comfortable leaning against the bar. I order us both another beer and look at her grinning as we silently toast to our evening. Just as Lauren, already a little tipsy, pulls off to go to the bathroom, I feel a gentle tap on my shoulder. I turn to see a stunning blonde smiling at me, her hazel eyes amused, and my I.D. in her hand.

"You seemed to have dropped this", she glances down at the card, "Annie Baker."

I grin sheepishly at her and take it from her hand, then quickly return it to my pocket.

"Thanks. Don't know what I would have done without it."

She cocks her head to the side and raises her eyebrow. "I am glad that I could get it back to you then. I do have a little problem though... You don't _look _much like an Annie Baker to me..."

"I... I um... Well..." My mouth opens a little as I try to think of a retort but come up empty handed. I hang my head. "Kennedy. I'm Kennedy."

"Well hello, Kennedy." She gives me an amazing smile as I rise up and meet her eyes, "I'm Charlotte. Charlie, really."

I take the hand she extends and shake it firmly. She orders us both a beer at the bar. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lauren come out of the restroom (and I realize she's actually been gone a while... there must be lines in the bathroom.) – she sees me, mouths "Get some!" at me, then turns to leave. I swear I see her meet someone as soon as she gets outside but the door closed in my line of vision before I could be sure.

"So Kennedy. You are obviously not a design student. Nor 22."

Deer in the headlights look on my face, I turn to look at Charlie. She is standing, lent over onto the bar. I (as inconspicuously as I can) eye her up and down – her long, tan legs just barely covered by the black mini-dress she's wearing, accentuated by the high heels. Her long blonde hair is pulled into a loose bun, with strands falling over her face. She's painfully good looking, and though I am afraid all chances of me going anywhere with this girl are shot if I tell her the truth, I figure there's no use lying now. She already knows I'm not Annie Baker and I am definitely not 22.

"I'm 17," I say as I sit down. "From the U.S, I'm actually here for boarding school. I live right up the street with Lauren, the girl I was with earlier, and her uncle."

All fears I have disappear when Charlie places a slender hand on my knee as I sit. My brain skips a beat and it takes me a few moments to gather my words. Needing something to do while I regain the ability to speak, I pick up my beer and begin to drink.

"So you're just a kid, huh?" she says seriously, but with laughter in her eyes. She orders me another beer when I finish off the one I was drinking and set it down on the bar. "That's okay. You seem to know what you're doing."

* * *

The night seemed to fly by from there – I spend what has to be hours talking with Charlie at the bar before we head to the dance floor; I learn that she's 24, has a college degree, works for a high profile magazine as an editor, and recently broke up with her girlfriend of three years. I feel like we spend even more hours on the floor once we get there, dancing way too closely and whispering in each other's ears. It all started off innocent, I swear, but then she got a breath too close to my ear and I couldn't control myself. Between the heat and the sweat and the music and her body pressed against mind, grinding against me in all the right places, I just couldn't control the things coming out of my mouth.

Feeling my head swimming from the alcohol (though I have a feeling it's really the things Charlie was saying that are to blame), I take a step back to stop dancing and catch my breath. Charlie laughs at me and grabs my hand, pulling me back to the bar.

"Whiskey or beer?", she yells over the music.

I smile at her. "Whiskey."

"My kind of woman."

* * *

Checking my watch as I finish my third shot, my jaw drops at the time. Taking a second to compose my thoughts and let the burning in my throat subside, I turn to Charlie. Both her hands are on my knees, inching higher with every minute, and she has been talking about some article she has been editing for the past few minutes. I doubt she realizes how slurred her words are becoming, though.

"Charlie", I slur out as well, and she looks up at me. Oh god I am _drunk_. "'S late. Place is closin' soon."

She checks her wrist watch, nods, then (almost falling over) slowly rises. "Looks like it...", she says as she puts money down on the bar to cover our tab. "How're you gettin' home tonight, Kenneny?"

We hold our positions, her standing next to me with a hand still on my thighs and me sitting on the bar stool. I feel my phone vibrate in my jacket pocket and pull it out to check the text – it's from Lauren.

_how is the rest of ur night going? who did you end up going home w/ tonight? ;) -L_

Smiling, I stand and catch Charlie's gaze (was she just checking me out?). "I know who I _want _to take me home."

* * *

Stumbling, we wander out to the parking lot and to Charlie's Jetta. We awkwardly stand by the driver's side, not sure where to go from here – we both know what we _want_ to happen next, but aren't sure if we should. Suddenly overcome by an incredible fear (probably brought on by the alcohol, or the fact that I am pretty sure this is illegal), I decide to proactively give her a way out if she doesn't feel like taking a teenager home.

"If you wan', Charlie, I cou-"

My semi-coherent thought was interrupted by Charlie roughly crashing her lips against mine. I am too drunk to react at first, but quickly my instincts kick in and I roughly kiss her back. My tongue is quickly granted access and I start to push her backwards, into the car. Without breaking contact, she opens the back door and pulls me on top of her. I lean backwards off her to shut the door. Without hesitation, Charlie is already pushing my jacket off of my shoulders and unbuttoning my blouse. A moan escapes my lips, startling both of us I think, and I crash back down onto her, my lips roughly meeting her's again. My hands begin to wander, scratching down her sides and over her hips until I reach the bottom of her dress. Not even bothering to break the kiss or seek some sort of permission, I pull the dress up around her hips. Though it's hard to maneuver in the back seat of the small car, I manage to slide my hand between her legs and practically gasp at the wetness I find there. Pulling back, desperately needing to catch my breath, I move to her neck and gently suck on the pulse point I find there.

"No underwear?" I whisper.

She says nothing, but I can feel her smile as she takes my ear between her lips. _Oh fuck._

* * *

The next morning, my head is pounding. As slowly as I can (because I am pretty sure I will go blind if I do it any faster), I open my eyes and find myself in my bed, fully clothed, and with Lauren (not so clothed) draped across me. Confused, I shake Lauren awake.

She groans and rolls off of me. "Oh my god Kennedy stop shaking me before I bloody kill you. Or vomit on you. Or both."

Smiling to myself (even though it hurts... everything hurts), I start to sit up and look around. There's numerous alcohol bottles scattered around the room, and a very large glass of water sitting next to me. I greedily snatch it and chug the whole thing down. Training is going to be a bitch today.

"What happened last night?"

She rolls over, and pulls the pillow on top of her face.

"That girl brought you home. At like six in the bloody morning. My guy was a bust so I'd gotten home way before you. You were so drunk you passed out in the driveway and I had to pull you up the stairs, then throw you on the bed. You're heavy, by the way" Without looking she punches my elbow. "I was trying to change but you're a total bitch and pulled me on top of you. Guess I passed out here."

"Oh my god I don't remember any of that..." I trail off, a little surprised at how drunk I had gotten. Lauren just laughs and throws the pillow that was covering her head across the room.

"I'm never going to get back to sleep", she whines. "Check your pants pocket, Casanova. There's a napkin sticking out of it."

I do as she says, and scribbled on the napkin in what appears to be eyeliner is a note, with a sloppy lipstick print in the corner. I hold it up so Lauren can read it with me.

_Charlie - 0208 419 8138  
Had too much fun  
Call me sometime_

Lauren punches my elbow again, and looks up at me grinning.

"You bit slut you. Gonna call her?"

I stare at the note for another moment, and smile as I slowly begin to remember the events of previous night. Charlie was beautiful, amazing, sweet, funny, nice, great in bed (and car)... and _totally _into me. But that's the problem. I stand cautiously, not wanting to give my headache reason to worsen, and stretch. As I walk towards the bathroom, desperately in need of a shower and some clean clothes, I crumble up the napkin and throw it in the trash.

"Nope."


End file.
